What I Saw At Fetish Con

It was a normal night in St. Petersburg, Florida, when an elderly couple passed me by. Typical in Southwest Florida … until I realized the woman was wearing a mesh crop top and dog collar, and the man, a leather harness.

That was the first sign that something was … off. A few seconds later, another couple stood waiting to cross the street: a man in his 70s, arm-in-arm with a young girl, 21 at most, wearing an “I Love Daddy” t-shirt. Something DEFINITELY wasn’t right. I inquired to my friend, “What the hell is happening right now?”, without even realizing just how accurate the word “hell” was. Staring down at his phone, he replied, “Fetish Con is in town.”

Fetish Con? Did I just hear that correctly? Like, the feet-lovers and the furry people? That had to be the weirdest thing I’d ever heard. I had to go.

“Weird” didn’t do it justice, as you’re about to see. If you’re like me, you’ll want to laugh, but won’t be able to. You’ll be too busy worrying about your children, schools, our country, the consequences of the internet, and, well, life as we know it.

Let’s get into it.

As I approached the St. Petersburg Hilton, women were casually returning to their cars, topless save for the tape they wore to comply with the conference’s no-nudity policy, while men dressed in animalistic garb loitered near the entrance. The hotel’s interior was blocked from public view, with curtains guarding the entrance until tickets were purchased.

A hotel employee directed us to the vendor halls and, intriguingly, to something called “The Dungeon.” The name conjured images of childhood museum exhibits, but as I would learn a few minutes later, the reality was far from childhood innocence.

As I crossed the threshold into the event, the scene was surreal. An elderly man dressed as a baby—complete with a diaper, bib, and bonnet—sat alone. Whose grandfather was this? A mix of attendees filled the halls. Some dressed in outfits that appeared to be from Spirit Halloween and the majority dressed in…well…I don’t even think you could call them “dressed.”

Advertisements for adult sites plastered the elevator doors, while a red carpet photo op and a massive balloon display proclaimed “Fetish Con 22.” (Yes, this is the 22nd Fetish Con). As if things couldn’t get any stranger, a couple sat straddling each other on a strange piece of furniture I initially thought was hotel decor in the most vulgar display of PDA I’ve ever seen.

Off to a flying start.

Upon entering the first vendor hall, it became clear my outfit was not Fetish Con-appropriate, so I immediately purchased a pair of cat ears in an effort to blend in. The room was packed with booths offering every conceivable (and inconceivable) sexual accessory. A display sat in the back corner that allowed attendees to vote for their favorite fetish. The winner in St. Petersburg? Farting.

It was around this time that I realized these people weren’t simply into the “typical” fetishes. A young woman hung (not hung out…literally hanging) at another vendor station while being degraded by a male employee. Whose daughter is that? And I was continually met with the sight of fresh bruising on the rear-ends and necks of women at literally every turn (I’d soon find out the source). Satanic imagery was scattered throughout the halls, adding an unsettling layer to an already bizarre atmosphere.

Finally, I made it to The Dungeon.

The Dungeon required visitors to put away their phones — a rule strictly enforced by event staff.  I slipped my phone into my clear purse and the employee declared, “Any purse except that.”

That should have been my first red flag.

My cat ears couldn’t mask my shock upon entering. I was greeted by a dimly-lit room with a series of stations where attendees could engage in acts of submission and domination, each one more disturbing than the last. The two stations near the door sat empty, manned by an older male employee eagerly awaiting his next guest. The sight was enough to make me want to leave immediately.

My friend and I looked at each other and simultaneously exclaimed, “Yup, we’ve seen enough.” We made our way to the exits, but not before being handed a pamphlet promoting a production company with the title, “Have You Accepted Satan As Your Lord and Personal Savior?”

The implication was clear: this was more than just a niche community — it was a culture with its own insidious undertones.

After returning home I took to “X” to explain what I saw, carefully trying to withhold too much judgment until I had more time to process what I had just seen. My post quickly went viral, amassing over 8.5 million views.

Update: I lasted approximately 24 minutes at Fetish Con.

The first person I saw upon entering was an old man dressed as a baby, followed by countless women covered in only tape, men wearing stripper heels, and couples guiding each other around with dog leashes. I turned to my… https://t.co/YAjHXIU7cn pic.twitter.com/xOJda54lMN

— Billie Rae Brandt (@BillieRaeBrandt) August 11, 2024

Since then, I’ve been inundated with messages from Fetish Con attendees, adult film stars, and fetish-community advocates. Some are from men who want to send me money — another fetish I haven’t been able to figure out.

But most of the messages were vicious, including sexual harassment and threats of violence. These messages challenged my initial belief that these people were simply troubled — they were possessed by something far darker and depraved than I could have imagined. These were people who would stop at nothing to drag the rest of us into their twisted worldview.

One of the most striking responses came from a teacher with a master’s degree in education who claimed this community as her “life.”

It was a reminder that the people I encountered at Fetish Con were not just fringe members of society: they were our neighbors, our colleagues, and, perhaps most disturbingly, the ones teaching our children.

But of all the hate hurled my way during the Fetish Con saga, this was the insult that caused my lightbulb moment.

And if you influence anything, it is probably ignorance. I am sad you didn’t take the time to see what this gathering of like minded people brings to others. Love. Joy. Friendship.
Sometimes the family we choose is more impactful than the family we are born with.

— AuthenticallyKinky – Official Podcast @Fetishcon (@authkinkypod) August 14, 2024

This was an attendee at Fetish Con who claimed that “sometimes chosen family is more impactful than the family we are born with.” And I guess that’s the point, isn’t it?

Why did this person leave that family and “choose” this one? Was her family really that bad? Or were they simply groomed into this culture and taught to hate their family along the way?

This culture is, increasingly, our culture. As we become more and more addicted to instant, short-term gratification, we are slowly losing our basic humanity. Excessive pornography consumption can shrink the frontal lobe, which is responsible for executive functions like decision-making and a dysregulation of the body’s dopaminergic system – in other words, your ability to break bad habits and learn new ones.

The relentless pursuit of dopamine highs dulls the appeal of “normal” sexual experiences, diminishing the capacity for meaningful relationships and driving individuals toward increasingly extreme behaviors. You get into a certain type of person, a certain type of act, then a more extreme person willing to engage in that act, then an even more extreme act… and the cycle continues until porn is your only option for gratification.

Either that, or you embed yourself in the only community that doesn’t see you as damaged and is willing to enable this cycle in a real, tangible way.

It’s easy to rationalize extreme and bizarre in a group setting — no one’s a freak at Fetish Con. But the more we tolerate this behavior, the more we allow it to enter and shape mainstream society. That’s how we end up with fetish-loving, non-binary kleptomaniacs working high up in the federal government. It’s how we end up with a trans-identifying man bearing his fake breasts on the White House Lawn.

It’s how you wind up with Fetish Con enthusiasts teaching young children.

A few weeks ago, I got some bad news: Fetish Con had blocked me on X. I guess that means I can’t attend next year. But that’s alright. I’ve seen enough to last a lifetime.

Besides, at the rate we’re going, we may all be living in Fetish Con before we know it.